


Top Star

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7, Top Gear (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Crossover, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Top Gear crew in the Blake's 7 universe. Spaceships race, things get destroyed, the word 'cock' is excessively used. A fairly typical day, in other words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Star

**Author's Note:**

> There are only hints of a nookie relationship, but eh, better safe than scarring.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Today the producers have kindly given us each three thousand credits..."

"Of our own money," Richard interrupted Jeremy.

"Yes, of our own money, and told us to go to the space knacker's yard, and purchase genuine deep space vehicles." Jeremy looked at James, who was climbing into a pressurized suit. "What are you doing?"

"For three thousand credits, we'll be lucky to get a ship that holds air." 

"Yes, but you're putting the suit on backwards."

"Oh, cock."

***

"Right, now, here we are. Well, here _I_ am," Jeremy said into his suit microphone as he floated, tethered to his ship. "I'd give you the specifications on my ship, only it hasn't got any. Apparently it's some custom-built foreign thing salvaged without papers. It's got a hell of an engine, though." He pointed at the green globe far to the rear. "Ah! Something tiny and drab coming up on my sensors now. Must be Hammond... and it is."

The black ship parked and a small, suited figure floated out to join Jeremy. "What on Earth is that great, white elephant?" Richard asked.

"No idea. At least it's not as ugly as a Porsche. And I see you've found yourself a nice dress shoe."

"That’s a Mark Two pursuit ship, it is! Only one previous owner, I'm told." He patted the side of his burned and dented ship; a piece of hull crumpled in and floated off. "I didn’t need that bit."

"And he treated it with loving kindness, I can see. Is that gaffer's tape over the viewport?"

"Yes, well, it does tend to leak a bit at high speeds... anything over park, to be honest."

"Shall we have a game of cards while we await James' arrival?"

"Hang on, I think that's him." Richard rotated in space, and had a fit of the giggles.

"My God, he's bought himself a city. How much parking space does that thing need?"

"This quadrant, I should expect," Richard said as James brought his ship to a slow halt, brushing aside several satellites.

A tube began extending from the side. Jeremy said, "What the... Oh, now, that's just showing off."

James walked up inside the tube in his suit to join them, his boots clinging magnetically to the floor. "Hello. Pleasant day for a stroll, isn't it?"

"James, you great pillock, you were supposed to buy a ship," Jeremy said.

"I did! It's even got a name, which is more than you lot have." He pointed to the side of the ship.

"Space Princess? James... you've bought a bloody cruise ship!"

"I know, isn't it glorious. And the food's great, too." James giggled.

***

A small runabout stopped near them and a spacesuited figure jetted over to hand Jeremy a packet before leaving.

"Right, well, here's our first challenge." Jeremy opened the packet, leaving the envelope to float. 

"That's a ten credit littering fine, you know," James mentioned.

Jeremy looked at the bits floating free of Richard's ship, and the broken satellites slowly expanding around the Space Princess. "I'll Hoover later." He read the enclosure. "Starting point, Uranus..." Jeremy looked at Richard who looked at James. "Yes, well... from there, ten spacials flat out, make as sharp a turn as possible.... what's the turning radius on cruise ships, I wonder...and return to a stable orbit around Earth."

"That doesn't sound too bad," James said.

"No, actually, it sounds surprisingly easy," Richard remarked.

"Well, I did forget to mention one thing--- we get points for each asteroid we blast on the way."

James looked at his unarmed cruise ship. "Cock."

***

"Let's see... oh, nice, auto-nav. That'll be a help." James pushed the large green button, and the Space Princess started. The viewscreen lit up with an enormous blazing ball of fire, while a smarmy voice commented, "And on your right is the ferocious power which is Pyrrus, and which has been called the twelfth wonder of..."

James yelped, switched to manual controls and lurched the Space Princess sideways, scraping the length of Jeremy's white alien. 

"James, you idiot! " Jeremy's shout probably could have been heard without the aid of communications.

"Sorry! Sorry!" James switched off the comm. and muttered, "That didn't go well."

***

"Right, now, I'm going to do something very clever here," Richard said. "You see, this ship actually still had a pilot locked away in stasis. He'll know how to get the best out of it." He unlocked the large box standing on end at the back of the ship. "Well. Hello," he said to the tall woman in the severe black uniform who emerged expressionlessly from it. "I expect you're a bit confused. I'm Richard Hammond from Top Space, and I've bought your ship."

"You are now my commander."

"Yes, right, I expect so. Can you pilot the ship for me?"

"My energy reserves are low." A sharp needle slipped out of one wrist. "I need to feed."

Richard jumped backwards. "Not on me, I hope!"

"I am programmed to serve you. I cannot do that without feeding."

Richard thought a moment, and then called Jeremy. "Jeremy, I have a little technical problem. Could you come over here and give me a jump start?"

***

Jeremy returned to his ship, wrapping up his arm with a towel and grumbling. "Hammond's cheating with that pilot. I wish I'd thought of that." He got to the flight deck and stood at the pilot's station.

"Now. Let's see... computer, make yourself useful and tell me which is the starter."

"Knowledge cannot be given, it must be earned."

Jeremy went over to the hexagonal panel full of lights and bashed it with a spanner. There was a flashy explosion and a cloud of white smoke. "Now, watch this- the model has one very interesting feature... will you look at that?"

The broken panel regrew, repairing itself in moments.

"You can't do that with your typical space runabout. Zero to twenty seconds on this scale of damage." He hefted the spanner again. "Now, computer, which is the starter?"

"ZEN!" the computer flashed its lights, and suddenly Richard and James were standing there, trapped in vehicles slowly sinking under water. "They need me," Jeremy said, eyes wide and dazed as he stood there, watching. "They'll die." Suddenly he grinned. "And I'll win!"

Zen grumbled and turned off the image. "The starter is the large button directly to the left of the flashing green light on the pilot's console."

Jeremy returned to the console and hit the button. The ship's engines screamed and he was blasted back into his seat, face distorted by g-forces. "Negative hyperspace! This is.... FANTASTIC!" he shouted with glee.

***

As James rounded Uranus, his ship wallowed out of the solar system to the accompaniment of a slide show of stars that weren't anywhere near his present location. "I've bought a pup." Then he ate another chocolate bikkie and giggled. "But who cares! Let's see if I can run over the Hamster!" He aimed the Space Princess at Richard's little black pursuit ship. "Where's the horn! I need a horn!"

"Captain Slow's gone mad," Richard said to his pilot as the Space Princess turned broadside and aimed in his general direction.

"Shall I fire upon him?" the pilot asked expressionlessly.

"YES! No, wait a minute. Maybe just a little." Richard slumped down in his seat as the pilot fired blaster rounds into the cruiser. "Eek."

Jeremy wasn't watching them. He was trying to reach the controls. "WHAT A BEAST! " He finally reached the button and turned off the hyperdrive. "Quite a bit of oversteer, there, really," he said as he noticed that he was now orbiting Cygnus Alpha. "Next time I'll engage the tracking control."

***

Jeremy and Richard orbited Earth for several days. "How many asteroids did you get, Jeremy?" Richard asked as they were sitting down with jars of space-ale together on Jeremy's flight deck. Jeremy had refused to go back and refuel Richard's pilot until he'd refueled himself.

"Well, deliberately, none. But the impact sensors recorded a dozen." 

"A dozen what? Asteroids?"

"Technically, some of them might have been space caravans."

"Oops."

"I'm sure they were all off sight-seeing. Most of them, anyway." Jeremy drank his ale. "And how did you do?"

"By the time I drove off that maniac, May, my guns were empty." Richard drank some ale. 

"So, that's a zero for you, and since May hasn't any guns, this round goes to me."

Suddenly the communications unit began playing music. Very loud music. Ale spilled everywhere as they jumped to their feet and stared in astonishment at the sight on the viewscreen. The Space Princess was approaching in a cloud of debris. "My god, he's pulverized the entire asteroid belt," Jeremy said. "And dragged it behind him."

"And he'll be dropping it on Earth," Richard noted, making calculations. "Oh, no problem, it'll land on south Florida. No one with any sense*** lives there."

The music switched off and James's voice came over the comms. "Hello! " He sounded drunk. "The Princess has arrived! The party can begin. Continue. Do you know this ship has virtual entertainment consoles in every room? Of course, it'd be better if they used a true random number generator instead of the bog-standard 'randomization' based on pi."

"May, as exciting as that is to you, the question we have is this," Jeremy said, "How did you manage to blast those asteroids?"

"Sonic vibrations!"

"There's no sound in space," Richard said. "Except maybe, me screaming when you tried to flatten me."

"That's generally true, but if you read Takahashi's paper on the Geodesics of Sound Waves and Their Wave Fronts in Curved Space-Time, you'd see how the sound wave propagations in the accreting matter of a rotating disk creates a sound horizon and sound ergoregion, where there is a potential hill near a rotating black hole for the retrograde motion of..."

Jeremy interrupted, "Did you just say 'black hole'? May, you didn't make a black hole just to blast asteroids..."

"It was only a little one," James said. "I was bored."

Richard cringed. "James, did you shut it down after you finished playing with it?"

"I might have done. I think so." There was a pause. "Oh, cock. I've left the black hole running."

***

"Well, we've been fined for destroying Earth and warned off the solar system entirely, but that doesn't really matter, because our next challenge is a speed trial at our proving grounds near Andromeda," Jeremy said. He and the other two were on the stage watching a monitor showing their ships in space.

"Some say he was raised by homicidal aliens. Some say he's secretly the son of the ex-president fathered by all four of our producers. Some say he's actually a mutant space-wolverine.

All we know is...he's called the Stig."

The monitor showed a figure in a black spacesuit, with an eyepatch over the left side of the helmet entering Jeremy's ship.

They watched as the ship started up. Jeremy commented, "A bit of a slow start. He's finding the oversteer a consideration... wait a moment. He's off the course." 

"Jeremy," Richard said after a few minutes, "he's nicked your ship."

James ate another chocolate bikkie and giggled. "How many points do you lose for that?"

***

"Some say he fell out of an energy converter near Star One. Some say he's a legend to frighten rebel children. Some say he looks really good in black leather.

All we know is...he's called the Stig."

"Ah, Jeremy, didn't the Stig run off with your ship? Shouldn't we say this is another one," Richard suggested. "His Andromedan cousin, maybe?"

"That would makes sense, but I'm just reading the script," Jeremy said.

"Script?" James looked horrified. "We ad-lib everything!"

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do. Like this bit here."

"Eat another biscuit, James."

"All right." James dunked his biscuit in a mug of tea as the Stig, in white space suit with black eyepatch, entered Richard's pursuit ship.

"Now," Jeremy said, "I've looked up the specs on this model of pursuit ship. It's fast, it's maneuverable and ... it's bloody well gone off the course, too! Another ship nicked by the Stig!"

"How can we have a competition with only one ship left?" Richard asked.

"They'll come out of your pay packet," James noted, while munching. 

Richard turned a horrified look on James. "Oh, no. I've just remembered. The Supreme Commander is behind our producers."

"She won't be happy," James said, calmly. 

Jeremy mused, "No race to appease the masses. Two Stigs lost... or we lost the same one twice..." He and Richard exchanged glances. "You remember what happened to the film crew who spoiled her anniversary party at her mansion. Er, James," Jeremy said, "how is your ship set up for long term cruising?"

James smiled brightly. "I've loads of bikkies!"

***

"What's that large spotted animal** doing floating around the bulkhead?" Jeremy asked as he sat in a lounge chair watching a slide show of planets.

"The backstroke," Richard answered as he ate another bikkie.

***

"It's my ship," James said.

Richard and Jeremy exchanged glances. 

"And my bikkies."

Jeremy and Richard looked at the airlock.

"And besides, neither of you knows how to run the Princess."

"James, you've had it set to circle aimlessly on auto-pilot since we boarded," Jeremy pointed out.

"The registration's in my name. What if we're pulled over and someone else is driving?"

"There he has a point," Richard said. "I, for one, don't want to have to explain about the mining satellite."

"Or the fleet of Andromedan tourists," Jeremy agreed.

***

"How much farther is it?" Richard shouted over the comm.

"Not far," James replied from the flight deck, around a mouthful of bikkie. "I can see the petrol sign."

"Thank God," Jeremy muttered as he adjusted the propulsion jet of his space suit. "My shoulder's about to give out."

"Bigger isn't always better," Richard panted as he helped Jeremy push the Space Princess down the gravity gradient towards the Free Trader station.

***

"NO, NO, You idiot! NOT THAT WAY!" Jeremy flinched as the Space Princess nosed directly for the middle of the station. He grabbed a fin and pulled back. "STOP!"

Richard jetted out of the way, and watched as a safety net engulfed the ship and tangled Jeremy in it as well. "I'll meet you at the snack bar," he shouted before heading for the small personnel airlock to one side.

"I'M GOING TO KILL MAY!" 

James said, "Sorry about that. The brakes failed."

"What rotten timing," Richard remarked as he neared the airlock.

"Oh, it went out a few parsecs back."

"WITH A SPANNER! A LARGE, RUSTY SPANNER!"

***

Richard had an ale nicely warmed up and waiting, when Jeremy entered the snack bar. "I hope you didn't leave May to negotiate for the fuel."

"No, I handled that. " Jeremy sat down and drank deeply. "They're transferring chocolate biscuits now to pay for it."

"Good." Richard looked at Jeremy. "I think we ought to work on the ship."

"No one's paying us," Jeremy said gloomily. 

"It needs a touch... a bit of brightening up."

Jeremy looked at Richard. "They have pink paint?"

Richard grinned.

***

The front of the Space Princess read in pink paint, "Space Rats are Slowboats". "Travis is a chav" spread over the left side, and "Amagons are berks" occupied the right.

"You know, Travis really is a chav, so does that count as an insult?" Richard asked.

"Would you rather I put 'Spaceball is for gits'?" 

Richard winced. "No, no, I don't want to have dogs sicced on me at the fueling station again, thank you."

***

The Princess had a large appetite, so as she refueled James joined the two of them to sit around a view port watching other ships arrive.

"That's a Lanza, that is." Richard pointed with his ale-holding hand.

"No, it's not. The 3054 Lanza is really a Volka engine inside a Saab frame with the Lanza chassis tacked on." Jeremy munched on a pretzel. "That one's been modified, though."

"I see the turning radius is improved." James nodded.

"The flames on the side aren't standard," Richard noted. "At least, not _real_ ones."

The Lanza/Volka/Saab beat out an equally jazzed-up Fearraro/Ford Prefect to a parking slot. Both pilots emerged onto the concourse at about the same time, and began to argue.

"My money's on the blonde," Richard said.

James said, "You always did like yellow."

Richard scowled. "Stop bringing up Oliver, you know how I felt about him."

"Well, it was your fault leaving it parked in Earth orbit with Captain Slowmad on the loose," Jeremy remarked.

Richard sulked.

"Anyway, the tall, curly-headed chap is bound to..." Jeremy winced as the blonde's knee made strategic contact and the tall man gave a pained squeak. "That had to hurt."

"Here's another ship. Wanderer class-planet hopper, I should say," Richard said.

"Hard to tell under all the patches." Jeremy peered at it through the viewport. "It looks like one of our worse purchases."

"Here comes the pilot, now." James pulled back as an unshaven, middle-aged, middle-height, man in black leather strode onto the concourse, stepping over the tall man and brushing past the blonde woman. Both of them started up and followed him, grabbing at his arms and talking together. 

He ignored them, and splayed his hands down on the table in front of Jeremy. "You're the leader here."

"Ah." James and Richard shrank down in their seats. Jeremy straightened and tried to look arrogant. The man in black leather gazed at him impassively. Jeremy blinked. "Ah, well, in manner of speaking. What can we do for you?"

"You were last in possession of my ship. I want it back."

"Your ship?"

"The Liberator. Big. Fast. Powerful. And MINE."

"Here, now, Avon, " the blonde woman said, "you only had a third share in her."

Avon glared at the woman. "You sold your third to Blake. And I hope you got your money's worth."

Jenna scowled at Avon. "Not hardly."

"Well, now, that's a pity, but Blake gave ME the ship."

James blinked, "Was it your birthday, then?"

Avon glared at James, and then obviously gave it up as futile when James returned his glare with a gormless smile.

"And then you ruined her," the tall young man put in.

"Shut up, Tarrant," Avon said. "Well?" he addressed Jeremy. "Where is it?"

Jeremy spread his hands. "I haven't the foggiest. Our pet test driver nobbled it, and then he came back and nobbled our second-hand pursuit ship."

Avon went dead still. 

Tarrant looked at his face and began talking very rapidly. "Yes, well, I'm sure that between all of us, we can locate it."

"All of us?" Jeremy said.

"Trust me on this," Jenna said, "You don't want to disappoint us." She smiled, and it wasn't much more reassuring than Avon's blank stare.

***

"All right, it's not as if we had anything better to do," Jeremy said finally after the conversation degenerated into a three-way discussion with Tarrant, Jenna and Richard boasting about the respective qualities of their ships, Avon and James discussing nano-navigation technology and its relationship to the infinite probability drive which neither of them believed existed, but if it did, then... and Jeremy signing autographs for Top Star fen who burbled on cheerfully, but ignorantly, about vehicles. Jeremy was getting a headache listening to all of them, and possibly being on his sixth nicely warm ale contributed to his abrupt interruption.

"What?" Avon said, looking up from a diagram he'd been drawing in ale.

"I said, let's go find your lost lamb." Jeremy got up. Avon stood up and managed to look him in the eyes without looking shorter than Jeremy.

"How do you do that?" Richard asked, in admiration.

Avon grinned. "Anti-grav lifts."

Richard looked at Avon's boots. "Cobblers."

***

"And why do we have to ferry you on the Princess?" Jeremy asked Avon, disgruntled as he was shifted from his comfortable seat on the flight deck to make room for Avon and Avon's boots.

"Point number one," Avon said without looking up from the gadget he was installing in the Princess's nav-comp with James's assistance. "I installed Lo-Jack in Liberator years ago."

"Well, we could track that ourselves," Richard said, uneasily eying Avon's proximity to James. 

"Not without Orac, which is MINE. That's point two."

"Possessive little bugger, aren't you?" Jeremy muttered, also noting the way James wasn't shrinking from Avon.

"And point three is that you couldn't break the tour guide programming on the Space Princess. Which I have just done."

The monitor stopped showing scenic FaraWay and gave a view of the exterior of the FreeTrader Station as a barge pulled away.

Reluctantly, Jeremy and Richard exchanged a glance of acknowledgment. Jeremy tried one last argument. "The Princess is dead slow. Why don't you just take her last coordinates from the nav. Comp. and go in your own ship. Or with your friends?"

Avon slid back out from under the console and showed Jeremy his teeth. Jeremy had a momentary vision of a wolverine backing down a bear that he'd seen in an antique nature guide. Prudently, he moved his throat and himself back out of reach.

"Points four and five. I've already sold my nav-comp Slave and the ship to the Freetraders in exchange for parts to retrofit the Space Princess. And I've salvaged the Star-Drive from Scorpio. We can modify her."

Jeremy brightened. "How hard can it be?"

Richard and James trembled. "DON'T SAY THAT!"

Avon smiled.

***

Several weeks later, much to the surprise of Tarrant, Dayna and Soolin (who had stayed on his ship out of sight, eating chocolate bikkies and playing Space Monopoly) the Liberator showed up on their detectors.

Jenna, Vila, and Cally (who had stayed on their ship out of sight, eating chocolate bikkies and playing Space Trivia) were less surprised. They had longer experience and more proof that Avon was a stubborn git.

"STAND AND DELIVER!" James shouted gleefully.

"Er, James, we're not pirates," Richard said. He pointed at the monitor where an image of a man with a black eye-patch glared back at them. "He is."

"Oh. He's not going to ram us amidships is he? That's where the chocolate bikkies are stored."

Avon was ignoring the conversation, staring at the pirate. The pirate was staring at him.

"So, you're the Stig," Avon finally said. "Orac told me, but I couldn't believe it. Not of you."

The pirate glared at Avon. "Do you think I care what you believe of me? I've got a pursuit ship in the hold, and Liberator is recharged. I can blow you...."

"I really wish you would, Roj."

The pirate's mouth closed. Then he smiled. "Permission to board is granted, Kerr."

***

The others watched on the monitors with disgust as Blake and Avon gazed into each other's eyes (well, one of Blake's you can't count the one under the eyepatch). Dayna made gagging noises. 

"If they're going to start hanging lace curtains on the flight deck, I don't want to know about it," Jenna said, firmly switching her monitor over to the Space Princess.

A moment later, Tarrant followed suit. "Avon's teleported over to the Liberator with Orac, and Blake's taken off at Standard by... well... gone. What do we do now?"

Jeremy looked at everyone, and suddenly smiled. "Well, I happen to have positions open for racing drivers. Jenna would look good in white, and Tarrant in black."

"You have to stay anonymous," Richard said.

Jenna and Tarrant exchanged glances. "Suits us."

"And what about the rest of us?"

Jeremy ate a chocolate bikkie. "Well, if you were willing to crew on board the Princess..."

Vila grinned. "Pass the bikkies."

 

 

*The story of how all the crew survived and met each other proves the existence of the Infinite Improbability Drive. But they are embarrassed, so I can't tell you about it.

**At the time I wrote this, I was also participating in the One Million Giraffes project, so giraffes tended to sneak into everything.

***I live in South Florida... this does not invalidate Richard's statement.

***


End file.
